


Here Is Where I Found You

by mrsmcdarbear



Series: Heart And Mind [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A little smutty, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, F/M, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s04e13 Praimfaya
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-01 23:56:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11497482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsmcdarbear/pseuds/mrsmcdarbear
Summary: Clenching her jaw, she flickers her eyes to his. “I missed you so much,” he says, tugging her hand away from his face, dropping it in her lap, intertwining their fingers. She startles when he crawls onto the cot to lie beside her, pulling her with him.  Her heart feels like it’s outside her body, unprotected. “I have so much I want to say to you.”“We got time.”orClarke and Bellamy make up for the last six years.alsoThis is a follow up to my storyHere Is Where I Lost You.





	Here Is Where I Found You

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to add another chapter to [Here Is Where I Lost You,](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11074005) but I think it does really well as a stand alone fic. 
> 
> unbeta'd as always.

She wakes up on her makeshift mattress, alone and warm, surrounded by fur. There’s a bandage on her finger she doesn’t remember putting there. She doesn’t remember lying down. She doesn’t remember falling asleep.

She remembers Bellamy.

She sits up, looking around, frantic. Her chest expands and then tightens. He’s gone. She fucking imagined the whole thing. It was a dream, another hallucination. He’s never coming back.

“Son of a bitch,” she hisses, throwing the covers away from her. “I knew it. I fucking— ”

“Clarke?” She freezes. He’s standing at the cave entrance, radio in hand. He doesn’t have a shirt on. She holds her breath. “Hey,” he says, soft, pushing his curls off his forehead. “You were out for a while. I didn’t want to wake you. I just needed to let the others know, I— ” He hesitates, shifting his feet. “I got held up. I told them I’d be back tomorrow.” She shakes her head, releasing the air from her lungs. “I didn’t exactly know how to tell them I found you without them thinking I’ve lost my mind, so I figured it’d be best for them to see for themselves, when we get back.” His laugh falls short. “I mean—I know I’m assuming a lot, saying that, but there’s no way I’m leaving here without you. So either we’re going there, or they’re coming here.”

Clarke stares at him, half expecting him to disappear with each blink. Everything about this is too good to be true. She looks down at her knuckles, white from gripping the cot. She’s had lucid dreams before, the ones where everything feels real—a trick of the mind.

She pinches her wounded finger.

“Princess. . .” He walks towards her. “Clarke, stop. What are you doing?”

“Trying to wake myself up, idiot,” she grumbles, like it’s obvious, tearing at the cloth.

He grabs her hands. “You’re not asleep. You’re hurting yourself,” he scolds, securing her hand in his.

His skin is rough and solid—real. She sinks back down on the cot with wide eyes. “I’m awake.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, averting his gaze. “You were sleeping for hours; I shouldn’t have left you alone. I shouldn’t— ” His voice cracks, “I shouldn’t have left you,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes. He’s so close she can count the freckles on his face, although that’d probably take a while. There’s a lot. _Was there always this much?_  “Clarke?”

She flinches, his eyes like a weight pressing in on her from all sides, full with more emotion than she knows how to deal with. She ducks her head, staring at his chest. It doesn’t do much to relieve the pressure on her heart, or other parts of her body.

“You did what you had to do.” She swallows, clenching her thighs, trying to decide which piece of him is safest to look at for her own sanity— _well, what’s left of it_. She settles on his ear.

“You haven’t changed,” he says, rough.  She almost thinks it’s meant to be an insult, before catching the curve of a smirk playing on his lips.

“You have,” she retorts, lifting her palm to his face to rub his scruff. “No razors in space?” she teases, trying to keep her voice light, falling short when she chokes on a sob.

Bellamy catches it and lifts his hand to cover hers. “Clarke,” he says, fond, looking at her almost like— _no_ , she needs to stop thinking these things. She’s not even sure what’s real from her memories and what she’s making up to cope in her head—stupid little girl fantasies. “Clarke, look at me.”

Clenching her jaw, she flickers her eyes to his. “I missed you so much,” he says, tugging her hand away from his face, dropping it in her lap, intertwining their fingers. She startles when he crawls onto the cot to lie beside her, pulling her with him.  Her heart feels like it’s outside her body, unprotected. “I have so much I want to say to you.”

“We got time.”

“Yeah,” he says, careful, clearing his throat. “I don’t think I want to wait another six years before I do this though.” And that is the only warning she gets before his lips press hers.

It’s not like her fantasies—the ones haunting her dreams, consuming, leaving her gasping for air, clenching the sheets at night—back when she thought she wasn’t allowed to want him, after he lost Gina and she chose Lexa.

It’s not even what she pictured later, when he forgave her and she wanted to say she wished she stayed, but couldn’t—because that would mean wishing away the memories of past lovers.

Even if every other choice lead to them here, _together_ , she still doesn’t know how to cope with the deaths of hearts she stole, without her own to offer. She left it behind with someone else and now it’s back with a vengeance.

A gasp brings her back to the present; she’s not sure whose. The reality is soft and hesitant, like a question, but she knows he’s not asking for more when he pulls back with smile. She doesn’t even register her fingers reaching up to trace her mouth. He follows her movements, blinking, looking from her lips, to her chest, back to her eyes. “Sorry,” he says and then, “Actually no, I’m not sorry at all.”

Clarke remembers how to breathe again and a giggle escapes her. Bellamy grins so broad, like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “That’s new,” he teases, leaning close to peck her nose. “Can I make you do it again?” She nods, shyly, warmth filling her cheeks.

She’s pretty sure they’ve both shared better kisses, all things considered. Ones that involved tongue and lasted more than two seconds, but she hasn’t been touched in _six years_. Long enough to forget what it feels like.

She shifts her legs, trying to be subtle about the itch creeping its way across her skin, but when she lowers her hand and fingertips unintentionally graze overtops her breast, she shivers, releasing a soft sigh.

Bellamy’s grip tightens and she flushes all over, closing her eyes and burying her face between them, wrinkling her nose at the fur invading her nostrils.

He tugs her closer, lips tickling her ear. “Don’t hide from me.” She groans and tucks herself further into chest. He chuckles, brushing his nose against her cheek, leaving a chaste kiss on her jaw. “I spent so long thinking I’d never see you again, Princess.” She squeaks when he pushes her on her back, pinning her with a leg over her thighs. “Let me look at you,” he says, resting their palms above ties on her pants. She hisses, arching into their touch. He ghosts their joined fingers up her body, tilting her chin towards him. “Let me watch you, yeah?”

She doesn’t realize she’s biting her lip, until Bellamy tugs it out with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. She moans and he takes it as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and _this is it_ , the best fucking kiss of her life. She whines when he pulls away, but he just smirks, raising a brow and grazing his thumb over her cheek. _Such an asshole_.  

She turns to peck his fingers in retaliation, drawing them in between her lips to tease the tips with her tongue. He growls, pushing his knee over her groin and she jerks up, eager to grind on him. “I can’t believe I almost went the rest of my life without seeing you like this.” He finds her mouth again and swallows the embarrassing noises he’s drawing out of her, fucking it with his tongue. She pulls away to breathe and he nips her lip. “Show me,” he says, low, making her toes curl with anticipation.

She blinks, unsure what it is he’s asking. But, _god_ , she’d give him anything—everything. She goes to kiss him again, because that was fun. He presses a hand to her clavicle and pushes back. She opens her mouth to protest, only to lose it when he leans close, whispering in her ear. “Show me what I’ve been missing, Clarke,” he says, dragging her palm to the apex of her thighs.

“You want me to—”

“Touch yourself?” Bellamy finishes. “Yeah,” he says, nudging her chin. “That okay?”

“I don’t—I mean,” she stutters, blood rushing to her face, “I haven’t done _that_ in a while. I don’t know if I can—”

“Hey,” He nuzzles her. “What am I here for?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“To torment me, clearly,” Clarke huffs, without pause, feeling a bit more like the girl he remembers. He must notice it too, because he beams and kisses her wet and dirty.

“Only if you want me too,” he mumbles over her mouth, catching her sigh. “We should take these off first though, Love,” he says, tugging her pants. She flushes at the nickname, lifting her hips for him to pull them down and off, stealing her panties with them, which she wasn’t expecting.

Her breath catches and her nerves jump. She peeks down, finding him studying her expression closely. “Too fast?” he asks crawling back up her body to kiss her soft.

“It’s been six years, Bellamy,” she scoffs, yanking off her shirt to make her point.

“I know—but it’s not like I was here, Clarke.”

He hasn’t even glanced at her tits yet. She’s starting to feel offended. “You were always with me, Bell,” she murmurs, stroking his cheek.

He blinks. “That would be really fucking romantic, if it weren’t for the hallucinations, Princess.” She has a response for him, but it dies in her throat when he sucks her nipple into his mouth, teasing it until it’s hard. “Fuck, Clarke,” he groans, looking at her like he can’t believe she exists.

She knows the feeling.

“That’s the idea, yeah.”

He rolls off her, putting her hand where he wants it. “We’ve got time.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I maybe-probably-most likely could be persuaded to add another more smutty chapter to this. ;)
> 
> Also, friendly reminder that The Bellarke Fanfiction Awards are coming up. Categories have been released [here.](http://bellarkefanfictionawards.tumblr.com/) Nominations start the 26th. So, keep that in mind when you're binge reading bellarke fanfiction this week! 
> 
> P.S. Come say hi to me on [tumblr.](http://sabisunshine.tumblr.com/)


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